


What if We Got Coffee (And We're Both Boys)

by Mothgenes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, But Not Yet!, M/M, Slow Burn, So yeah, aziraphale still dresses Like That, but more like medium burn?, gabriel runs it., i dont know i just started it bro, it isnt mentioned yet but crowley works at a car dealership, run by beelzebub, take it, theyre gonna fuck one day, uhh aziraphale works at a cafe/coffee place!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothgenes/pseuds/Mothgenes
Summary: Crowley is just a regular dude and goes to get coffee at Dagon's recommended location only to find the guy working the counter is a very blond and cheerful Aziraphale, no they don't know each other yet, yes they will get to know each other. It's sort of a meet cute within a fun little AU.I dont know if im going to keep this up, but i probably will?





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony J. Crowley, at first glance, was blunt, apathetic, arrogant, and had a very particular sense of humor. He didn't have a lot of friends in the traditional sense, but it suited him anyway, because he wasn't traditional in any real sense. He had a tendency to snarl when applicable, baring his teeth like it was natural to him. It suited him even then. 

His features were sharp and steady, eyes unnaturally golden to the point that people assumed they were contacts- they weren't- and a tongue just long enough to look out of the ordinary when he touched his nose with it easily. His hair was shorter on the back and sides, but longer on top and in front, swept up and out of his face in a spray of auburn, red, and scattered browns. The creases in his face carried exhaustion and irritation as if they'd always been there, and looked perfectly in place where they fell.

His sense of style was very dark, draping himself in blacks and dark grays- though drape may be the wrong word when it came to his pants, which were slim and black, and so tight they clung to the ever curve of his legs as if they'd be punished for letting go. His darker sense of style went well with his sunglasses, expensive ones, that never left the bridge of his nose and hid his strikingly golden eyes behind them for safekeeping. Shoes pointed, jacket shoulders sharp, he was a figure of angles, contrasted by his perfectly round sunglasses- a figure of contrast in his paler skin touching darker clothes.

He was almost dangerous in appearance, in a sedated way that needed to be woken up before it could be truly noticed- but he was intimidating to most nonetheless. Not remarkable enough to be remembered from a chance meeting for weeks, but enough to be a story to tell a friend over dinner about the odd man who came in to order something or make a purchase at whatever venue said person worked at.

He would have been less remarkable if not for his manner of walking, which was dramatized at the hips and took up as much space as an angry glance. He moved with the grace of a particularly miffed river, fluid and graceful but with agitated purpose. Anthony J. Crowley was certainly peculiar in his own right.

The day wasn't as sunny as it could've been, clouds drifting lazily through the grey-blue of the sky, and Crowley was on the prowl for a drink. He'd felt like walking today, probably from spending so long drifting around in the prison-grey confines of his apartment for the weekend.

The glimmers of sunlight weren't unwelcome, and the sounds of London bustled at his ears in a comfortable way he'd come to tune out. He remembered a recommendation from a coworker, for a small but comfortably profitable place tucked away off to the side around here, what was it- Cafe Divine? Sounded a little stupid to him- but if he didn't like it he could always find enjoyment in complaining luxuriously to his coworker for daring to send him somewhere so boring or distasteful. So he headed in that direction easily, hardly glancing at any street signs. He'd been in London for longer than he could remember, and knew the city like the inside of his sunglasses.

He dodged a couple arguing on the sidewalk- bastards making their squabbles everyone else's problems- scuffing the man's heel with his shoe as he passed. He hated people who did that, got into fights in public. Bloody rude, and just a real mess. Did they just not get embarrassed that they were yelling at each other and making a scene? Some people were really just.. people, like that. Crowley looked around surreptitiously, tiny sliver of teeth peeking out when his mouth twitched into a half-second sort-of-snarl, hearing the couple he passed raise their voices even louder.

He grimly hoped something thoroughly unlucky happened to the both of them, and took a turn on the corner, leaving the bickering couple behind.

It wasn't long before he found himself pausing to give the sign above the unexplored Cafe Divine a passing look. Gold swirling letters, kind of pretentious. He preferred more modern establishments usually- but It definitely had a few people in line, so it couldn't be too bad. So he hoped. Otherwise, Dagon would be getting an earful.

He stepped through the already mostly open door easily, glancing around as he wandered into line. It wasn't bad inside- wasn't to his taste exactly, but it wasn't bad. A very particular aesthetic, with cold steel and sterile whites popping up everywhere, with brassy gold glowing in the mix.

The whole thing was undercut by a warm brown, where the wood of the sides at what he could see of the front counter, siding along the lower half of the walls. It was sort of stylish, he supposed- in an old fashioned way, like there was both a refusal to move on and an attempt to step forward. The whole vibe of the place was like trying to take a step forward while stepping on your shoelace with the other foot.

Crowley's shoes didn't even have shoelaces- they were slim and dark snakeskin patterned that he could slide into easily. Or slither, more like. The line moved up quite a bit. Service wasn't too slow then, good sign for whether or not he'd be coming back.

Glancing around, he saw someone with the little name tag on, an employee- a slimmer, tall person with short hair and elaborate eye makeup, their mouth set in the sort of petulant, barely neutral line as if they were going to spit barbed sarcasm in someone's direction. They were collecting dishes. Appearance wise, they seemed pretty feminine- but he didn't want to assume- the employees name tag read Michael. And their uniform seemed less rigid than places like Starbucks, the only article of clothing applying firmly to the decor being the starched white apron with Cafe Divine in the corner in golden embroidery, with a little flourish of a wing, matching the sign. Not horrible. Underneath though, they were still wearing more white, with the contrast of tapered black pants and heels. Not bad looking- but he looked away when he realized he was up to order soon after the person in front of him.

He glanced at his feet, back to the determinedly neutral-faced employee stalking back behind the counter with a tray they'd been collecting plates on, and to his sleeves, tugging at them absently. The person in front of him paid, and moved off to the side, overhearing a cheery farewell from the counter-worker, and he pushed his glasses further up onto his face before actually taking a look in front of him. His order came out of his mouth automatically, moderately complex with just enough extra whipped cream, not overdone, but his brain was yet to catch up. The man working the counter was startlingly different from the other employee he'd seen- still in that white apron, but cheerful, and looking right at him as if he could see through his dark glasses.

His eyes were very blue, and very perceptive. He nodded at Crowley with a soft smile, and a cheerful, "Right away sir", before turning away to work at the equipment behind the counter. Crowley shoved his glasses further up onto his nose again, trying not to let any of his thoughts leak out onto his face and leave him pink.

Hair nearly white, so blond and fair that it seemed unreal that it was natural- blue eyes that already knew you at a glance, with crinkles at the corners, as if he'd smiled so often they'd just grown to prefer staying put, in wait of his next smile. Softer face, for sure, very cozily structured, with an inherent softness that glowed from him even as his back was turned, humming faintly as he worked. He was just as soft everywhere else, the kind of softness that made for the perfect hugs. 

Crowley swallowed, tongue flickering out over his upper lip, trying not to stare at the employee as he worked. Cafe Divine, well named, for the veritable angel they had behind the counter... A gentle throat-clearing had him looking up again quickly from watching the counter, seeing that prim, effortlessly sweet smile directed at him for the second time. As he slid Crowley's coffee over the counter towards him further, Crowley didn't recognize it as much as he was looking at the soft hand on top of it, as if it would be perfect to squeeze, to kiss, to hold-

"There you are sir..?" Crowley's attention snapped back up to those blue eyes.

"Crowley," he blurted. "Well- not, Sir Crowley, just- Just Crowley." He managed to glimpse the name tag pinned perfectly straight to the white apron. Aziraphale. The name even looked like he came right out of heaven- and he couldn't help noticing, with a hopeful flutter in his stomach that was very unlike him, that there was a small heart sticker beside that name. A rainbow one. He heard a soft chuckle, and caught that smile widening with a laugh, blue eyes glancing away for a second, before going back to looking him in the glasses for a moment.

"Well, not-sir Crowley, there's your coffee. That'll be-" Crowley pulled his wallet out of his pocket, digging through it quickly and pulling out the necessary bills, sliding them over the counter quickly. Aziraphale's perfectly sculpted hands took them, flicked through them easily, before sliding them into the cash register, producing a few coins in change.

"Your change?" Crowley nodded silently, trying not to jump when the faintest, warmest touch graced his hand accidentally when Aziraphale passed him the coins, which he plunked into his wallet easily. "Alright then, have-"

"Thank- Thank you." Crowley cursed himself internally, but felt another warm bubble in his chest at the second small laugh of the past few minutes.

"You're quite welcome! Have a lovely day, ta-ta!" Crowley nodded quickly, trying to furtively drop a dollar or two into the tip jar before stepping out of line, pushing his wallet back into his pocket, and stepping out of the store with a jingle of the bell onto the street. He stepped aside to lean on the wall beside the door, coffee in his hands radiating warmth he soaked up eagerly through his palms and frigid fingers. Aziraphale.

Aziraphale. How was it pronounced? He'd have to ask. He remembered what he was doing for a moment, and looked down at his coffee. It looked perfectly done, but looks weren't everything- especially not about coffee. He blew on it lightly before taking a small sip, swallowing it slowly, and exhaling a breath of warm air from it, staring at the grey in the distance. It tasted how it looked. Perfect. How did Aziraphale smell? Like coffee? Or maybe not, maybe he had other favorites. He looked like he drank tea. Tea then? Aziraphale.

Aziraphale. That was quite the name. Aziraphale. It suited him though- looked good on him. Like the stupid tartan bow tie peeking out over his apron. He'd had a sweater-vest on too. All very cream and tan colored. Like coffee. Crowley took another sip, pulling himself out of his thoughts, brushing off his jacket- though nothing was there- and stepping into foot traffic, heading back home. He kept the coffee cradled close, taking the occasional sip, and leeching the warmth out of it.

He walked to the beat of his heart, which was beating however it pleased to imagine the barista. Might as well have been an angel- Would he like being called angel? Softly, muttered around a kiss to his cheek, or to his knuckles, or shoulder. Or lips. They looked soft before, maybe they were warm too- his hand had been very warm.

Crowley was slowly coming to realize that he hadn't stopped thinking about Aziraphale since he saw him, and it had been almost five minutes, over halfway back to his flat. That was kind of unusual- He did find people attractive, and often- having a little daydream about getting a little frisky with them for a half second before moving on with whatever he had to do, maybe revisiting it later for a longer, private daydream- but not.. like this. Not like this.

Nothing he'd thought of involved more than a chaste peck on the lips- he was thinking about Aziraphale- not kissing him hard, or having a quick fling, or even seeing him out of anything- not even that stupid bow tie, that was obnoxiously endearing, if he thought about it. He was thinking about.. holding his hands. Kissing his hands.

Would he go on a coffee date to the place he worked? Would that be tacky? What kind of drink did he like? Crowley had an idea what was going on. He didn't like it- well he did, a little- and wasn't going to indulge himself. But... he would. He wasn't one for self control, about that sort of thing- He'd be back at Cafe Divine tomorrow, for another perfect drink- and hopefully to see the angel behind the counter again. Anthony J. Crowley had quite the crush on the barista of Cafe Divine. Aziraphale. Well fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's back for more coffee and having a gay crush

It wasn't very like Crowley to worry about what he was wearing. That wasn't completely true- he did fuss with his clothes until he was pleased with how they looked- but not in terms of what other people thought. So it was a new experience to be standing in front of his flat's hall mirror, fidgeting with his outfit.

Knowing the _boringly_ hetero-normative society they lived in, it wasn't usually people's first assumption that those they met could be less than straight. That wasn't often a problem for Crowley though, seeing as how the way he walked and the sizable valley of visible skin at his neck and collarbones seemed to broadcast his very wide span of preferences to all but the most oblivious within line of sight. But did Aziraphale notice? Surely he must have- Crowley just didn't want the rather handsome fellow to take him for straight, no matter how unlikely.

The man himself had found a way- very befitting of his appearance- to show his own preferences, with the small sticker. Very small, but front and center on his person, explicit and straightforward. He seemed like he'd be that kind of person. But not without taking into account the sheer positivity that seemed to permeate the space he'd occupied behind the counter. Crowley wanted to crowd into his personal space and just soak it up, wanted to feel the kind of sweetness it took to produce a smile that struck so hard.

He ran a hand through his hair, shoving it back and watching it spring back to stand confidently out of his face. More confident than he felt- and sighed. He turned, raising both hands to lock his fingers behind his head and press his elbows together, leaning over with a groan.

"What the fuck am I doing, this is- so, so stupid." It was just as stupid for being so flustered over the idea of going to get a coffee. For fucks sake, he might not even be there! He might not be working that day, or it could be someone else's shift! He should just shut up, calm down, and just.. get a coffee. Easy. He leaned on the wall and let his hands fall again, turning to the mirror and fussing with his hair.

He tugged at his sleeves, adjusted his rather distinct belt, and slid his glasses back on. That definitely helped. They were a bit of a security object- He was self conscious about his eyes, and having them hidden put him in a safer, more secure mindset. He blew air out of his cheeks and clapped his hands together awkwardly at his reflection.

"Right. Coffee." He left his flat with a click of the door closing behind him, keys safely tucked into a tight pocket, and descended to the ground floor, nerves still running unevenly as he went. Cafe Divine- He read the sign. And then again. He hadn't been so nervous last time- but he supposed this time was different. But not by much, really- it wasn't as though he was going to ask him out.. just. Get a coffee! That's it. Fine, easy.

He stepped inside, finding to his relief, that there was a short line like last time. Gave him time to relax in the still new environment. He stuck his hands in his pockets and bit lightly at the inside of his lower lip, glancing around behind his glasses. Same interior, different people. That employee wasn't there this time, not out and about, Michael, their name was. He took a quiet breath and stepped to the side a little, peeking ahead with a slight lean.

He stepped back into line just as quickly, prodding his glasses more firmly into place, lips pressing together as he exhaled through his nose. He was there. Aziraphale. He had to say something- last time had been, a disaster- even thought he'd laughed.. that laugh. What a fucking laugh that was, that could light up a room in a half second. He really wanted to hear it again.

The current customer was dismissed with a cheerful sendoff, Crowley stepping forward in line. Just one away. He thanked fuck- not God- that the person in front of him wasn't too short to put him in plain view of the blond man behind the counter.

Still so blond- the little flyaway strands of his hair looked perfect in their imperfections too. He couldn't help watching what he could see of Aziraphale working on the order, those soft hands moving with elegant confidence, often out of sight. He looked up a little, and blinked in mild surprise. He was being watched. Another employee, not the Michael person.

The look in their eyes was of suspicion, no doubt about it- he couldn't exactly blame them, he wasn't the most trustworthy looking with the dark sunglasses indoors, all black, and general demeanor. Did they look at everyone like that? The employee had darker skin, a bit of a gold undertone- though that could've just been from the gold glitter decorating their cheekbones and around their eyes in a very particular fashion. He couldn't read their name tag from where he was- Though he could see they were wearing white, similar to Michael.

Crowley realized he'd been staring back, when the figure had a flash of recognition glance over their face and they stepped away into the back from whence they came. Odd bunch, these folks were- other than Aziraphale, it seemed, of course. Not odder than his own coworkers- A cheery "Have a lovely day", brought him back, and he hastily stepped forward to the counter as the person ahead of him moved away.

There he was again- Aziraphale. Same sticker on his name tag. Same brilliantly fair hair and radiant blue eyes- He was looking at him, almost expectantly, Crowley realized- so he cleared his throat- nice going- and spoke.

"Yes, right-" He listed off his order, same as last time, fumbling with his words a bit and seeing the crinkles at the corners of Aziraphale's eyes deepen, his smaller smile widening slightly. He willed away the encroaching flush that threatened to surface on his face.

"Right away- Same as last time, correct?" Crowley almost spoke, but closed his mouth, nodding quickly. Aziraphale turned away with a smile and a quiet hum. Some classical piece? Crowley kept his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot unsteadily. This was supposed to be so much easier- He knew how to be a right flirt if he wanted, but he couldn't bring himself to use the same attitude with the very properly dressed, old-fashioned seeming fellow currently fixing his coffee with practiced expertise, to the rhythm of his own quiet humming.

He probably had a nice singing voice. Did he sing though? Maybe he would, if persuaded, just in private. Aziraphale. When the soft smile was back at the counter, and those gracefully shaped hands at the cash register, he spoke up, hoping he wasn't about to be horribly rude.

"Pardon-" Aziraphale looked up at him from the register as he slid the coffee across the counter- just as perfect as before.

"How can I help you?"

"How do you say it?" Crowley cursed internally, at the slight tilt of Aziraphale's head at his question, and spoke again, tripping over himself to clarify.

"Your- Your name. I wouldn't want to uh. Get it wrong." The smile that had faded slightly brightened up, warm and pulling at his eyes.

"Oh! It's Aziraphale, most obvious way to pronounce it. Some have tried saying it A-zeer-ah-fay-el. But it's not, just- Aziraphale. I do appreciate your asking though, truly." Crowley glanced away, hating how he felt like the man could see through his glasses enough that he needed to avoid the sort of eye contact he didn't usually have to. It made him feel.. vulnerable.

"Yeah, I just thought- well, I'm not exactly a regular, patron here, but.." Aziraphale glanced up at him with a faint twinkling in those blue eyes that struck Crowley with a faint flutter in his stomach.

"Of course. If you'd been here before, I would've surely remembered you." Crowley tried not to stammer when he went to speak again, as Aziraphale rang up his coffee.

"Yes, well- I do intend to come back more, and- I figured I'd ask. The coffee- You- It's very good." Aziraphale's eyes softened, from the very sharp and intelligent way they'd been before.

"Oh, I'm ever so glad. I've been doing this for a while, you know, I'd hope i was good at it." Crowley fished through his wallet, pulling out the money he needed and sliding it over the counter, trying not to mumble, but still gently embarrassed and quiet, watching the counter.

"Best I've had." While he hadn't watched- Crowley almost wished he had- the response was so full of sincerity, warmth bubbled in his gut.

"That's ever so lovely to hear. Thank you.. Your change," Crowley stuck his hand out and let Aziraphale give him the excess- the warm brush of his fingers more then welcome. How wonderful it must be to hold that hand. It would be so warm, soft. He was sure it would fit in his own snugly and perfectly- nothing he did could be less than perfect.

"Thanks, and- no problem. I'll- see you around." Aziraphale gave him a fond look, folding his hands on the counter with inherent gentleness.

"Cheerio then, Mr. Crowley, and have a wonderful rest of your day." Crowley nodded a little too eagerly, taking his coffee and leaving the cafe quickly. Once he was a half block away, he let out a sigh, the warmth collected around his eyes softening and dripping down his face before fading gently. He hoped he wasn't pink when he was at the counter, in front of Aziraphale. That name sounded even lovelier spoken aloud. He'd have to say it to him- show him he remembered.

 _I would've surely remembered you._ Crowley blew on his coffee before snatching up a bit of whipped cream on his tongue.

Was he so memorable? He'd known his name too. That was a good sign, wasn't it? It must be. He ran his fingers back through his hair as he went, heading back to his flat the same way he'd came. It wasn't half bad out today. He could take his time.

Aziraphale's word floated around in his head, accompanied by the snippet of melody he'd caught from his humming, as he sipped his coffee. It was as perfect as the man who made it. He'd be back again, of course- how could he stay away anymore, knowing Aziraphale knew his name? He'd be a regular- if only to see him smile that way again. He was already eager to return. Dagon had definitely made a good call with this recommendation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got like nine comments and validation is a hell of a drug so here's more already! wahoo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're starting to talk a bit more. Aziraphale seems to be warming up to Crowley quite a bit, and Crowley realizes with embarrassment that he's getting attached pretty quickly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important update in the end notes about future updates!

Crowley had spent the morning at his flat muttering to himself- often times finding that name on his lips. Aziraphale. It felt good to say, natural, and came easily to him. He wanted to see him again. If he was honest with himself, he wouldn't be surprised if he was visiting Cafe Divine every day. Though he'd need to pop back into work at some point- his last week at work had been unusually profitable thanks to him, and it had given him a bit of leeway to slack off and stay home.

Crowley, for what it's worth, worked at a car dealership. He did not look like he worked at a car dealership. But he did. It was colloquially referred to by the employees, as Hell. The manager, was a rather short, messy haired woman who preferred she or they pronouns. Her name was Beatrice. She didn't like the name much, so it suited her just fine that her employees called her Beez, or Beelzebub. Was it rude? Not as much as it was first intended to be, because now she signed company emails with it.

Crowley owed her a bit, as it was partially thanks to a connection of hers that he got his hands on his fantastic car- an authentic, 1933 Bentley.

Dagon would make a snide comment on his return, of course- That was another nickname. Her real name was Donna. She was absolutely thrilled to be called Dagon, which suited her very greasy, mean spirited attitude nicely. Crowley was the nicest person who worked there. It wasn't exactly saying something, but it.. was saying something.

He was the most honest when it came to making a sale. He told people exactly what was and wasn't true about a car and showed them how to make a purchase and which car fit their interests without any extra money having to be flushed. That was all in secret of course, if Beez found out he'd been working in a way that decreased profits- even by helping people make more educated purchasing choices- she'd be pissed. So he never said anything.

He'd have to go back in and make a sale or two later, but he still had time. Beez was used to him pulling this sort of thing, but he was reliable with his unreliability. He pushed all his thoughts about work out of his mind as he pushed open the door to the Cafe Divine.

There was a slightly shorter line, which he stepped into, but with a quick step out and glance, he found himself disappointed. It wasn't Aziraphale this time. Well- he still wanted his coffee, so he just hoped Michael was as good as Aziraphale was at it. He recited his order with less enthusiasm, looking around distractedly as Michael went to work, hoping Aziraphale would pop out from the back and notice him. Was he there at all?

He felt like he was being watched and glanced back to the counter, finding Michael looking at him with eyeliner as sharp as the look she was giving him. Maybe she recognized him? She set Crowley's order on the counter with a click that sounded too distant than the familiar slide.

She gave him an appraising glance as she told him his total, which he pulled out mechanically. There was something missing about all of it. Aziraphale wasn't there, and he'd taken the warmth with him. He gave Michael a curt nod before he left with his coffee.

"Have a nice day." It was said with such a perfunctory dullness he could almost tell she didn't mean it.

Those sharp, judgmental eyes were watching him as he left. He realized as he headed back, that it had been the least remarkable experience in that cafe so far. Aziraphale really was just that.. good, he supposed. He'd have to try again tomorrow.

He blew on his drink and took a slow sip. It was good- but not the same. It just wasn't the same. He hoped Aziraphale would be back tomorrow- hopefully he hadn't retired or left or anything. He'd have to see.

 

Crowley was relieved to see a familiar head of wispy blond hair visible past the few people in front of him when he got into line the next day. He'd missed seeing him the day before, actually- actually missed him. Crowley considered the development a little embarrassing- he didn't want to come across as too attached so quickly, even if he was already getting pretty damn attached to the coffee.

It was later than he'd arrived yesterday, around one- he'd slept in, which wasn't unusual for him. He tried not to tap his shoes on the floor impatiently as he waited. He took a slow breath to calm himself down, slowing the hurried, unimpeded clicking of his shoe on the hard floor.

It wasn't a big deal. He occupied himself with picking at his cuticles absently until he stepped in front of the counter, straightening up and sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Afternoon," Aziraphale glanced up from the register and smiled at him. That fucking smile was going to kill him, he was almost _glowing_.

"Ah, afternoon! I assumed you'd like the same as usual?" Crowley nodded, self consciously pushing his sunglasses further up his nose, before tilting his head the slightest bit.

"You- weren't here yesterday. I- I'd assume." Aziraphale stopped moving to make Crowley's order, which he seemed to be memorizing, to look at him with a softness in his eyes.

"Oh, well I must not have been in yet. Yesterday was Saturday?" Crowley nodded in affirmation, still looking at him questioningly and trying not to duck his head or turn away too much from the utter enormity of Aziraphale's attention focused on him. "Yes, well I don't get in until about noon, on Saturdays and Sundays, unfortunately. Who was working?"

"Ah, that Michael person." Aziraphale nodded knowingly.

"Ah, yes, Michael. She can be a bit frigid- especially seeing as how you dress in such dark colors. She's a little... judgmental, you see. All of them can be." Crowley glanced away and touched the back of his neck self consciously.

"Yeah, I noticed." Aziraphale's brows drew together, look more stern than Crowley was used to seeing on him.

"She didn't say anything did she?" Crowley waved it away.

"Nah, she didn't say anything, don't worry about it." Aziraphale looked relieved, nodding and turning to work on Crowley's order.

"Ah, good to hear then." Crowley ran a hand through his hair and watched Aziraphale work. "How do you word your whipped cream again?"

"Ah, just enough extra but not overdone?" Aziraphale glanced at him over his shoulder with a smile.

"That's a lovely way to put it, i know just what you mean by that." Crowley ducked his head a little, rubbing the heel of his hand into his cheek for a second as if to scrub away the faint flush.

"You're uh. You're better, at it." He trailed off at the end of his sentence, mumbling. Aziraphale finished preparing Crowley's coffee and turned to him with a small smile.

"What?" Crowley cleared his throat quietly, looking at him with the kind of eager fondness of an old more-than-friend behind his glasses.

"You're.. better at making it." Crowley felt his heart flutter when Aziraphale smiled and almost glowed, brimming with pride.

"You might say.. I'm your favorite then?" Crowley blinked, refusing to blush.

"I- Yeah. Yeah, you.. make it best. It wasn't the same when she did it." Aziraphale was positively preening, and lightly brushed a few stray wisps of hair back down. with his fingers, looking thoroughly pleased, looking off to the side a little and giving Crowley an upwards glance through soft eyelashes Crowley hadn't noticed before.

"That's quite the compliment." Aziraphale slid Crowley's coffee across the counter with a perfectly manicured hand. Crowley found himself staring, blinking a few times to pull his eyes away.

"It- It's nothing, really. It just.. doesn't taste the same, if you don't make it." He knew he had to be pink in the face now. At least a little. But Aziraphale didn't comment on it, just beaming at him with a glimmering spark of something in his eyes.

"That's very sweet of you." Crowley couldn't help a quiet scoff.

"I'm not sweet." Aziraphale's eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement.

"Could've fooled me." He recited the cost of Crowley's drink, who pulled out his wallet to both pay, and tip.

"Well, it was.. good to see you again, Aziraphale." He could feel his face heat up again, at the positively shining grin on Aziraphale's soft face. He wanted to kiss that smile.

"It was rather lovely to see you too, Crowley. Remember, I'm not here until noon, Saturdays and Sundays. If you wanted to make sure you saw me, of course." The little twitch upwards of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made Crowley's heart flutter, and he swallowed before responding.

"Y-Yeah. Noon." Aziraphale tapped the coffee with one finger and a smile, looking into Crowley's glasses as though he could see through them.

"Have a lovely day." Crowley nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face, as he took his coffee and shoved his wallet away.

"Same to you, n'- thanks, for the coffee." Aziraphale gave him a small wave goodbye, a little flutter of his fingers, and Crowley left, raising a hand over his shoulder in farewell.

The door's bell tinkled behind him, and he smiled to himself, taking a slow, savoring sip of his coffee. Hot, sweet, perfect, and very Aziraphale. He turned and started to head home, nursing the coffee in his hands and savoring it.

He couldn't see, but Aziraphale was distracted inside- watching him until he was out of sight from the window, a soft hand resting on his chest, heart fluttering at the smile on Crowley's lips as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT SO- I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS FIC  
> BUT I WILL BE TAKING A TWO WEEK HIATUS FROM WRITING ANYTHING RELATED TO IT  
> i am going to a sleep away camp for two weeks, with no access to the internet, and will not be able to write or work on this for that long  
> afterwards i will be at another art camp for four weeks, but i'll be able to work on it there (if not less than usual though)  
> i thought it important to update it before i leave tomorrow (june 29th)  
> i hope this tides you folks over bit and i wouldn't be doing this hiatus if i didnt have to!
> 
> (also i went with the good omens prime version of Crowley's Bentley which is a 1933 model rather than the book's 1926 because i think its sexier and im the author i get to choose the sexy car)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> out of my way gayboy im bout to get it

Aziraphale hummed softly to himself as he carefully adjusted his apron, smoothing it down meticulously before adjusting the pin with his name on it to a practiced perfect straightness. He ran a finger over the sticker by his name. It was starting to peel a little- needed replacing soon. He liked having it there, there wasn't much room for customization in his uniform, so he took what he could get. He straightened up and smiled at his own reflection, eyes shining, and ran a hand carefully over his hair, smoothing it down.

There would be wisps of it floating up again in minutes- But it would have to do. He caught himself thinking further for a second, smoothing the thinner hair at his temples back self consciously. He put his hand down. None of that. But his heart tightened a little, at the soft insistent thought peeking through his focus. _I wonder if he likes my hair._ With a little shake of his head, Aziraphale dismissed it. It didn't matter. Of course, it _did_ matter, but he wasn't about to consciously admit that to himself and validate his distractions. He was going to be precisely on time getting out to the counter for his shift, and he liked it that way.

Aziraphale always took the morning shift- he was a morning person, so it made sense. Though, the shifts could be long, he didn't mind it as much, seeing as how he enjoyed his job. As he'd been doing more often, he noticed- Aziraphale glanced at the time once he got behind the counter. Of course he knew what time it was- but part of him was counting down to a specific time. _When he'd arrive_ , his mind supplied, unhelpfully.

There wasn't exactly rhyme or reason to why Aziraphale found himself so interested in who should've been just another customer. But who was he kidding- he didn't look much like any other regular customer. He carried himself in such a unique way it made everything seem new. Oh, and those sunglasses. The glasses made him all the more interesting- whether or not that was intentional was up in the air, of course- but he couldn't help wondering what was under them anyway. Human nature, he'd supposed.

But Aziraphale couldn't help but let his thoughts wander to the not-so-strange stranger. He sighed resolutely, smoothed down his apron, and readied for the first customer of the day when Gabriel turned the sign in a minute or two. He made it to eleven before getting restless. His shift ended at twelve. Where was he? He kept working at his immaculate pace- he'd grown used to faking focus so he could daydream at the counter without his performance lacking- and kept glancing out the window every minute or two.

Michael was already suspicious that he was.. interested, in Mr. Crowley. She was equally as suspicious of him- she had a bit of a distaste for people who dressed like him. Aziraphale wouldn't say she was prejudiced, but she seemed to stereotype people on appearance constantly. She'd ask him, the day before, what was "that", after Crowley had left.

"That?"

"Yes, that." She'd been so icy he could almost see her breath. "He's rather sketchy, don't you think?"

He'd sighed, going about putting together another coffee. "Really, Michael that's very rude. I'd say, 'you wouldn't say that to his face, now would you?', but I know you would. I'm just glad you didn't."

She'd taken it in stride, perfect posture shifting to lean on the counter with venom in her winged eyeliner, casting a disapproving glance on him that made him shrink slightly. "You seem to have taken a liking to him." Aziraphale had waved it off, face faintly warming.

"No more than any other customer, don't be so assumptive." Michael had scoffed and left, with a low utterance of, "I have my eye on him, 'zira."

Aziraphale sighed, in the present, as he slid the lid onto a coffee order, before turning with a half-falsely chipper smile to hand it off. Michael needed to learn how to turn off her stern attitude more often, and relax. She was one to talk about relationships near the workplace anyway. She couldn't think he'd missed the quiet conversation with Uriel, about Sappho of all things! Gabriel had probably noticed too, seeing as how he'd been rather peeved later on.

Not to say Gabriel was particularly against women loving other women, but (again, Michael being one to talk) he and Michael had been an item for about a month and a half a while back, and he'd been a bit grouchy towards the budding flirtation between the two women. 'Have an eye on him' indeed.

Speaking of the devil, Michael was giving him a look from the doorway to the back, the kind of arched brow that made him want to crawl inside himself a little further. He met her eyes for only a second before going back to work. He hoped she didn't stick around until Crowley showed up. If he did show up. He really hoped he would. He kept greeting customers, taking orders and names, making drinks with mechanical skill and relaying food orders back to the kitchen, calling names and handing over food orders.

It was a comfortable bustle, mostly familiar, or repeat customers, the occasional new face. He kept glancing out the window. It was eleven fourty. He had twenty minutes, until his shift was over. But he wasn't looking forward to it- Crowley hadn't shown up yet! The last thing he wanted, was for his shift to end, and then leave, only to hear from Uriel, working the afternoon shift on most weekdays, had seen his "sketchy little work crush in the dark glasses".

He greeted the next person in line with his usual cheerful smile, took their order, and as he was handing it to them, glanced up at the door again when he heard the chime. His heart climbed a little further up into his throat than it had been for the past several minutes of anticipation.

There he was.

All dark clothes and guarded, raised shoulders, hands stuffed into his pockets- they didn't fit, and Aziraphale thought himself aware enough to spot women's pants when he saw them, with the small pockets being a giveaway- and those dark glasses. When he saw him do a little step out of line, not exactly subtle about his glance to the counter, Aziraphale looked back, hesitant, not knowing whether or not he was looking at him in the moment, but smiled at him, casting his eyes down for a second before going back to his business.

The grin he gave the familiar woman stepping up to the counter was more genuine, knowing that only a few more orders until he was speaking to Crowley again. He afforded the occasional glance up at him though. The sunlight out in the street shining behind the windows gave his hair a bit of a glow, the reds and fiery auburn colors alight, almost smoldering. Aziraphale couldn't help the breath of a sigh. Positively enchanting. His face was so guarded, even without considering the glasses, lovingly sculpted with faint creases lined with faded remnants of carefully hidden emotions.

He's tried so hard not to look at his mouth, since he'd first met him. He'd seen of course, but tried not to stare. His lips were thinner, colored, probably bitten. Would they be soft, though, on his? Would they be hesitant, and gentle? Or pressing and insistent, maybe even rough? They looked like they'd seen both. Aziraphale could only daydream of finding out. And he did, throughout the days.

But knowing his luck, Michael would tell Gabriel, and he'd start hovering at the end of his shifts. Getting confrontational and defensive. Aziraphale wasn't sure he meant well- but he'd given him the benefit of the doubt time and time again.

 

On a sidenote, for anyone curious- Gabriel was Aziraphale's cousin.. sort of. Aziraphale's parents had divorced. His father had remarried, a few years later, to a woman with no children- so he had no stepsiblings to speak of- but she had a sister. That sister had been married previously, and had divorced her husband, and remarried- like Aziraphale's own parents- and she had married a man with his own children.

One of those children, was Gabriel. So technically, Gabriel was his cousin. Gabriel was the stepson of Aziraphale's stepmother's sister. Aziraphale was never sure how many steps removed that was- but it seemed to be plenty. Gabriel, regardless of their lack of blood relation, seemed to have the idea that his age left him in charge of Aziraphale.

This shouldn't have been the case, but Aziraphale had accepted the job offer from him, to work at his budding coffee-shop and cafe, Cafe Divine. So now, through business- Gabriel was actually in charge of Aziraphale.

 

The next two orders dragged on to him-far too long for his taste- he just wanted to see Crowley in front of him, but the man ahead of him was taking his time with his order. When he finally picked what he wanted, Aziraphale finished his coffee and handed over his pastry with finality and a strained smile.

As the man stepped away without acknowledging his cheerful sendoff, Aziraphale looked down and brushed off his apron, before looking back up. A scarce few inches taller than him, he looked into those dark sunglasses with the faintest flush to his face, and a relieved smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Crowley, how are you this morning?" That thin mouth quirked into an offset smile. Beautiful..

"I'm just fine. Thanks- thanks for asking, 'ziraphale." He used his name, and said it correctly. Aziraphale's heart fluttered, smiling at the counter and tucking a flyaway lock of pale blond hair back against his temple.

"Oh, no problem d- Crowley. So, the same as always?"

Crowley nodded, hand raising to scratch lightly at his jaw. His nails were painted a matte black. It suited him, incredibly so. Aziraphale felt his face heat up slightly, realizing what he'd said. He'd almost called Crowley by something other than his name- a habitual, affectionate nickname he used with people he cared about or was close to. Dear. That simply wouldn't do, would it? They hardly knew each other.

Looking back at those lovely nails, Aziraphale contemplated asking a certain question. Pronouns. Aziraphale was not at all, cisgender, and preferred he or they pronouns. He didn't identify much as a man, but felt far more comfortable with the label than with the label of woman.

It wasn't just right- but it did fit. He'd been picking up cues, from Crowley, ranging from his choice in eye wear to clothing, to now his rather enchanting nails- and he wanted to be sure he wasn't making any assumptions.

"Yeah, same thing. It always.. tastes amazing. I- I'm a bit peckish this morning, which isn't normal for me, d'you have a recommendation, maybe?" Aziraphale looked at Crowley, chest warm, and beamed.

"Oh, yes, I'd be happy to. Hmm- In the mood for breakfast?" Crowley smiled, nodding sheepishly.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Hardly wake up early.." Aziraphale tilted his head slightly, raising a hand to tap the side of his nose.

"Ah! How do you feel about angel cake?" Crowley's eyebrows became visible above his glasses, and Aziraphale could only see the surprise- not how he was contemplating the irony of Aziraphale, almost an angel himself, proposing angel cake.

"It's great, why?" Aziraphale smiled knowingly, eyes creased with joy.

"We make french toast with it here." Crowley leaned forward slightly, eyebrows not returning to behind his glasses.

"What? Seriously?" Aziraphale almost glowed at the tone of his voice, a strand of that brilliant hair falling across Crowley's forehead.

"Yes! It's a bit of a favorite around here. How does that sound?" Crowley smiled a little, a genuine, embarrassed affair, making Aziraphale's heart melt.

"Sounds brilliant. I'll take one of those then." Aziraphale nodded with enthused finality.

"Excellent! I'll just fix you your order and you can take a seat while you wait." Crowley nodded his agreement.

"Should I uh- wait n take my coffee with me, or-" Aziraphale gave him another blindingly bright smile.

"Just a moment, I'll have it done in a jiff." He turned away and got to work, not seeing the way Crowley was watching him, all soft eyes behind those glasses lingering on his practiced hands and on his face where longer eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

When Aziraphale slid him his drink, Crowley already had the correct amount in payment ready, and slipped it to him with a heart-fluttering brush of fingers.

"Just sit down and your food will be out soon enough." Crowley ducked his head a little, Aziraphale's happy reflection looking back at him from his sunglasses, and took the coffee, empty hand going to scratch lightly at the back of his neck along his hairline.

"Thanks." Aziraphale gave him a dazzling look that felt like it could've blinded him if he hadn't been wearing sunglasses.

"I hope you enjoy your order!" Crowley flushed at the almost playful downward tilt of Aziraphale's chin and slightest flutter of lashes over the upward glance of shining blue eyes. He nodded meekly.

"Me too, thanks," He left the counter and headed over to wander until finding somewhere to sit.

Aziraphale watched him go with a smile, and brought the order to the metal wheel and put it on a hook. Sandalphon looked up at him with a slow nod, and started to prepare the food. Aziraphale gave him a grateful, cheerful nod in return and went back to the counter. Sandalphon was by no means... fun, to be around, but he knew what he was doing when it came to the kitchen.

He stayed at the counter helping people, stealing little glances at Crowley until the order was ready- which was very quickly- and his shift ended- as it should have minutes ago, leaving Uriel impatient. He took Crowley's order before the server could get it, not difficult since people were changing shifts, and brought it to him. He set it in front of him, and Crowley startled a little from tapping away at his phone, only to see his eyebrows raise in surprise at what was in front of him. He glanced up at Aziraphale with an almost embarrassed smile.

"That looks incredible, thank you." Aziraphale preened a little at the words, though he knew it wasn't his handiwork.

"You should taste it first, before you compliment it. I'd hate for Sandalphon to get a big head over nothing. He's already plenty confident enough, you know." Crowley nodded and turned to the french toast, taking the knife and fork and cutting a square off. He let it slip into his mouth almost hesitantly, chewing. Those eyebrows went up again.

"He should be, this is as good as it looks." Aziraphale smiled again. He did that a lot already, but it felt like he did so more often around Crowley.

"Thank you 'Ziraphale. Shouldn't you be at the counter?"

"Oh no no, my shift just ended- that's why I took the opportunity to bring this to you. I wanted to see how you liked it for myself." Crowley nodded a little, cutting into the cake.

"You could- sit down? It's a little awkward with you just standing there, not meaning to be rude-" Aziraphale blinked.

"Oh! Oh don't worry about being rude, you're absolutely right."

He quickly moved to take a seat across from him, back straight and sitting adorably prim and perfect. Crowley almost snorted but buried it in another mouthful of french toast. The angel was so cute, did he know how absolutely adorable he was sitting like that? With that blond hair and those eyes?

Aziraphale watched him eat, and Crowley caught the hint of something in his eyes. He spoke around a mouthful before swallowing to continue.

"Would you- m- You want a bite?" Aziraphale startled a little.

"Oh dear, it's yours! I couldn't bear to impose,"

"Go ahead and impose, here." Crowley smiled, and cut another square, not realizing what he did when he offered it to Aziraphale.

He froze for a second, but Aziraphale only flushed faintly and touching Crowley's hand to move it closer, leaned in and took the piece into his mouth, pulling away again with a small bashful smile. But he chewed, and sighed, a quiet groan muffled behind his lips, and Crowley contained his little shiver. Did he know what he sounded like when he did that? 'Course not.

Aziraphale gave him a sugar-sweet smile, looking more an angel than ever. "

Thank you Crowley." Crowley blushed and fumbled with his fork, cutting up his order and sticking a piece in his mouth. He spoke muffled.

"S'no problem," Aziraphale chuckled, a warm, bubbly sound. Crowley chewed and swallowed. "So, how's your day been?"

Aziraphale was surprised he asked, but started to tell him. They spent time there, talking, until Crowley's plate had been picked clean, and both of them were happily talking over said plate. Uriel gave them a look from the counter.

This Crowley fellow had sure caught Aziraphale's attention, hadn't he. It made them suspicious, and they hardly trusted Aziraphale's judgement, but it hadn't gotten serious enough to matter. Not yet. But seeing what had happened today, it seemed like it might become something more.

They watched as Aziraphale glanced at his watch and apologized profusely for taking up so much of Crowley's time, and the darker haired man with his sunglasses firmly in place chuckled and waved him off. He asked if he should clear his place and Aziraphale denied it, taking his plate as Crowley stood and stretched.

He was long and languid, but almost too thin. Uriel was only half understanding of why Aziraphale liked him so much, but they ignored it. They watched Aziraphale take Crowley to the door and bid him a soft, heartfelt farewell. He returned a small, genuine smile and a flutter of fingers waving goodbye before he finally left.

As Aziraphale headed into the back with pink in his face and a wiggle in his step, Uriel decided they'd keep watching without interfering. They were very good at watching, after all. They moved on to another customer with a half present, false smile, and filed the information away to be dealt with later. For now, they had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN'T MEAN TO GO SO LONG WITHOUT UPDATING THIS BUT I DO NOT CONTROL THE HYPERFIXATION I AM SORRY.... I WAS SO BUSY AT ANIMATION CAMP AND THEN I JUST. STOPPED THINKING ABOUT GOOD OMENS FOR SEVERAL MONTHS BECAUSE I STARTED THINKING ABOUT OTHER THINGS 
> 
> BUT HERE IT IS I FINISHED THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I THINK ITS LONGER SO I HOPE IT MAKES UP FOR IT? 
> 
> i really hope i don't go this long without updating it again but like i said i don't control the hyperfixation, and the only reason i was able to finish this is because i got into a writing groove writing my other fic posted today about angsty spones

**Author's Note:**

> oof augh oogh stupid gay idiots in love argh houagh comments and kudos always appreciated hyeargh


End file.
